I hate it when people pay artists way late, excruciatingly late. I’m facing an eviction notice this thursday if I don’t scramble up some rent money. I’m for sure getting one small pay cheque, possibly getting another, and hopefully that will be enough to pay off my outrageously late rent. My cupboards are bare, even the mice aren’t bothering with hanging out in my apartment. I didn’t eat anything today but two cups of coffee (all I really have left), an apple fritter that my co-worker didn’t want, and a spindly flavourless black bean soup made with the few things left in the fridge. It lacked jalapenos and tomatoes, looked like something an old lady with tummy troubles would make.
This too will pass.
I rolled four butt smokes, and I haven’t smoked for half the day. I should just not smoke again. Actually, I should try those herbal cigarettes. Not pot. Herbal. Smart alex.
I thought I was going to pass out at work. It felt like my stomach was eating itself, and everyone I called was in the middle of supper. Of course.
I would like a steak, or some crab. Maybe some king crab legs. I would like cheese. Fried Salmon. Toast with honey. A nice shiraz.
In a couple of weeks this will all be different. Heck, tomorrow my family is helping me out.
Friday I plan to go for sushi with my friend Lynn. I hope. If the rent doesn’t completely wipe out my cash.